


something to remind me

by Lint



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Episode Tag, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 02:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18273845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lint/pseuds/Lint
Summary: Lena regards her cautiously. A face that looks so much like Kara's, despite lacking a pair of glasses, and hair a shade of brown so dark it's almost black. With eyeliner a lot less subtle than the reporter usually goes for, and no lipstick to speak of.





	something to remind me

 

This isn't the kind of thing she does regularly.

 

Drinking. Namely drinking alone, is very much something done regularly, but always within the confines of her office. Sitting by herself on a stool at the end of a high class hotel bar, however, is the exception to the rule. Something about the stress of the last few weeks, has left her feeling very much the caged bird, and a little voice inside began to cry for her to be let out.

 

So, out she went. To a hotel owned by the beneficiary of L Corp herself, and the staff recognizes her face enough that she left be after ordering a whiskey neat. Thankfully, the suit and tie crowd such a place attracts seems to recognize that a woman enjoying a drink all by herself, is not an invitation or a challenge, and she's one finger away from asking for a refill when her good luck seems to run out.

 

Practiced words are perched on the tip of her tongue, but never make it past her lips, when an all too familiar scent wafts across her nose. The dismissal changes to a greeting within her mind, but turning her head to greet a familiar face is met with confusion, as the person she expected is not the one present.

 

“Good evening,” the woman greets with a nod.

 

Lena can't help to gape, if only for a second, mouth slightly parted with a striking sense of familiarity. Shaking her head from the revere, she returns the greeting so as not to be rude, and swiftly downs the remains of the glass before tapping it so that the bartender call refill accordingly.

 

“I'll have what she's having,” the woman says in a voice akin to one she hears regularly.

 

Lena stares into her drink, wondering if this some kind of game, though she's never known Kara to play in such a way.

 

“I'm sorry,” Lena begins, turning toward the woman. “This is going to sound like such a cliché, but do I know you?”

 

The bartender sets the whiskey in front of her, and Lena watches as she takes it in hand but makes no move for a drink.

 

“I don't think so?” she offers. “I mean, I know who you are Miss Luthor, but I can't think of a reason why you'd know me.”

 

Lena regards her cautiously. A face that looks so much like Kara's, despite lacking a pair of glasses, and hair a shade of brown so dark it's almost black. With eyeliner a lot less subtle than the reporter usually goes for, and no lipstick to speak of. She offers a hand, and Lena blinks twice, before taking it in hers.

 

“I'm Linda,” the woman states cheerfully. “Linda Lee.”

 

Lena's eyes narrow before she can help it. Something in the way she speaks. Like she's trying so hard to cover up something in her speech pattern.

 

“Lovely to meet you Linda,” she replies, lifting up her glass. “Cheers.”

 

Linda smiles warmly with the clink of glass, but her face instantly turns sour after the whiskey hits her tongue. She coughs and sputters, placing a hand on her chest, and taking several quick breaths.

 

Lena smirks.

 

“So, whiskey isn't your drink?”

 

Linda shakes her head.

 

“I read it in a book once,” she says, though her voice is still strained. “A man approached a woman at a bar, said he'd have what she's having, and they quickly fell into a conversation.”

 

The smirk turns into a smile.

 

“I imagine there are easier ways to strike up a conversation,” she teases.

 

Linda matches her smile, if only in a self depreciating way.

 

“I'll remember that next time,” she promises.

 

They're quiet a moment.

 

“So,” Lena continues. “If you know who I am, what is it you had in mind to talk about?”

 

Linda laughs softly to herself.

 

“Honestly?” she sighs. “I didn't think that far ahead.”

 

“No?”

 

“No,” she echoes. “I thought I'd lose my nerve and head back to that chair over in the corner.”

 

She points with the glass still in hand, neither setting it down, nor taking another drink.

 

“I saw you come in,” she goes on. “And thought, wow that's Lena Luthor. You should go say hello.”

 

Lena takes a drink.

 

“Hello.”

 

Linda laughs again, but still doesn't take a drink.

 

“Hello.”

 

Lena sets the glass on the bar, turns atop the stool to face Linda squarely, eyes dropping down to her shoes then slowly climbing back up. A style she can never see Kara going for. Black and white, with no color, it's frankly a little plain. Linda blushes easily at being regarded in such a way, and Lena swears she's seen that look before.

 

“You're not from around here?” she questions. “Are you?”

 

“National City?” Linda replies. “No, I'm from...”

 

Lena's brow furrows at the hesitation.

 

“Do you not know where you're from?”

 

Linda laughs at herself again, but it's forced. Like someone trying and failing to think of a believable lie.

 

“If I said Keystone, you wouldn't believe me, would you?”

 

Lena shakes her head.

 

“Not for a second.”

 

Linda sighs.

 

“What about Kasnia?”

 

The American accent is dropped for English spoken in a more Slavic tone.

 

Lena's eyebrows lift with the revelation.

 

“Now that,” she offers, reaching for her glass to take another drink. “I would.”

 

Linda blushes even more now.

 

“Why the fake accent?”

 

“Because I find that, in America, people will take you more seriously when you look and sound just like them.”

 

Lena cannot argue with that logic.

 

“Sad but true,” she agrees. “Apologies for the ignorance of my fellow countrymen.”

 

Linda looks relieved, finally setting her glass back down.

 

“Not to stereotype,” Lena continues, chin jutting to Linda's whiskey. “But would vodka be more enticing?”

 

Linda purses her lips, thinking it over.

 

“I do not think so,” she laments. “Alcohol is kind of... Not for me.”

 

She's quick to throw her hands up.

 

“I mean, no offense.”

 

Lena laughs.

 

“None taken.”

 

They both regard one another thoughtfully.

 

“How long are we going to do this?” Lena asks after a moment.

 

Linda looks confused.

 

“What is this?”

 

Lena rolls her eyes.

 

“Okay, come on Kara. The hair? The make up? What are you playing at?”

 

Lena's gaze drops to where Linda's fists suddenly clench.

 

“I'm Linda,” she insists.

 

“Linda Lee,” Lena reiterates.

 

“Yes.”

 

“From Kasnia.”

 

Linda nods.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Don't you mean, Da?”

 

Linda does not look amused, and slightly crestfallen.

 

“Perhaps this was a mistake,” she bemoans. “I should go.”

 

Lena, as if actually realizing this isn't some game, reaches out for Linda's arm.

 

“No don't,” she insists. “I'm sorry. Really. It's just-”

 

Linda waits for an explanation.

 

“You look so much like someone I know, it's uncanny. And you even wear the same perfume.” She sighs. “To be honest, I'm a little rattled by it.”

 

Linda looks down at Lena's hand on her arm.

 

“Kara?” she questions.

 

“Kara Danvers,” Lena fills in. “My best friend.”

 

Linda casts a confused look.

 

“Why would this best friend Kara pretend to be someone else, just to talk to you in hotel bar?”

 

Lena closes her eyes, places two fingers at her temple, and rubs in slow circles.

 

“Well it does sound ridiculous to hear out loud,” she gives, opening them again.

 

“I am not her. I promise.”

 

Lena thinks on that a moment.

 

“I believe you,” she allows tentatively. “Though I have ask, why did you?”

 

“I don't understand.”

 

“Want to approach me in a bar?”

 

Linda blushes once again.

 

“Because I wanted to talk to you,” she states again. “Because... Because...”

 

Lena swirls her whiskey in anticipation.

 

“Because I think you are the most beautiful person I have ever seen.”

 

Her eyes go wide, not expecting such an answer.

 

“Oh.”

 

/\

 

Yet another thing she does not do regularly.

 

When Linda not so subtly hints that she has a room in the hotel, Lena manages to keep herself from stating that she has all of them. And somehow, once in the elevator, they make it nearly three floors before Linda is pushing her against the wall with a strength her body is deceptive in possessing. Lena doesn't mind, glad to give over control in such a situation as this.

 

Linda fumbles, however. With her hands. Her kisses. Leaving Lena to wonder if she's ever actually done this before. But when her eyes flutter closed, she imagines this is exactly how it would have been with Kara, had they ever dared take that step. With Linda's strikingly similar look and smell, the line between who she's with and who she wants, blurs within her mind.

 

The elevator dings with their arrival to the correct floor, and Linda quickly pulls away, tugging on Lena's hand but never looking back to her until they arrive at a nondescript door halfway down the hall. Fumbling for her key card, Linda offers a shy smile, before opening the lock and guiding them inside.

 

It's a room like any other. Double beds, with a small dresser between them. Chair and table in the corner. Large dresser at the front of the room with a flat screened perched on top. The closet door is open, but there doesn't appear to be any luggage.

 

“So,” Linda begins, waving her hand around, a kind of tension clear in her tone. “This is it.”

 

She's nervous, Lena realizes. Nervous to the point where she questions continuing, and even offers the girl an out.

 

“We don't have to do this,” she suggests. “If you don't want to. We can just call it a night.”

 

Something in Linda's eyes shine with the conflict. She does want to. Perhaps more than anything she's ever wanted in her life until this point, but has no idea how to proceed. Taking a breath, she gives Lena her answer.

 

“I want,” she states firmly, closing the gap between them.

 

“I want,” she repeats, reaching up to cup Lena's face in her hands.

 

“I want.”

 

A kiss.

 

“You.”

 

Another.

 

“But please, show me?”

 

Lena's bottom lip catches between her teeth, fingers teasing along the hem of Linda's skirt, before pulling ever so gently at the shirt tucked within.

 

“Lucky for you,” she gives. “I'm an excellent teacher.”

 

/\

 

Lena wakes a little after three in the morning.

 

Thankful for the clock on the dresser between the beds, because she has no clue where her phone ended up on the floor, among all of her clothes. Linda's arm is draped possessively across her hip, as Lena contemplates a strategy on how to disengage herself without waking the sleeping beauty. It fails the second her hand comes in contact with Linda's wrist, that arm pulling her closer, as something is mumbled against the pillow.

 

To say Lena's Russian is rusty would be kind, let alone the language spoken in Kasnian dialect, but she's almost positive Linda is telling her not to go. A smile comes before it can be helped.

 

“Perhaps I can stay,” she offers in a whisper. “Another hour or so.”

 

Linda's eyes peer slowly open.

 

“Lot can be done in hour,” she says in broken English. “Or so.”

 

/\  
  


Entering her office, after a detour to the penthouse for a quick shower, the sight of Kara leaning against her desk startles Lena to the point that she stops dead in her tracks. Gasping and throwing a hand to chest.

 

“Hey,” the bespectacled reporter greets with a laugh off of her unintended scare, a bright pink box in hand.

 

“Did we have breakfast plans?” Lena questions, heels clicking along the floor as she approaches.

 

Kara shakes her head.

 

“Woke up early enough to catch Dough Boy's first batch fresh from the fryer,” she explains. “Thought I'd drop by and share the spoils.”

 

Lena smiles in gratitude, taking the box from Kara's grasp and taking a peek inside, before setting it down atop the desk.

 

“Always so thoughtful,” she remarks, before pulling her friend into a thank you hug.

 

Without meaning for it to happen, Lena's head drops to Kara's shoulder, inhaling deeply of a scent that was once distinct. A pang of guilt swirls in her stomach, unwarranted as it may be, that something once unique is no longer. That she let herself have something, simply because something else is not an option.

 

“Um,” Kara begins, questioning the hug carried on far longer than intended.

 

“Oh,” Lena sighs, pulling back but not away, hands moving from behind Kara and across her shoulders, only stopping to cup her face. “Forgive me. Fawning all over you like this.”

 

“It's fine,” Kara insists, though her cheeks flush scarlet.

 

Lena hums, pondering the possibility of kissing those pretty pink lips, but feeling as if she already has.

 

“Y-you're,” Kara stutters. “I-In an awfully cheerful mood this morning.”

 

Lena's thumb caresses gently across Kara's cheekbones.

 

“I had a good night.”

 

 

 


End file.
